Wrecking Now
by mxjoyride
Summary: Dean Ambrose/William Regal slash. Ambrose has finally defeated Regal in FCW - but is their battle really over? Rated M for m/m slash, violence, language, drinking. Some Ambrollins implied.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: At long last – the Ambregal. I wanted to see this since I first saw Ambrose and Regal's work together in FCW, but I knew it would take some effort to write and I thought maybe I was the only one who wanted to see them together. But thanks to some encouragement from tumblr and aggressive feelz bullying by the lovely and persistent IrishCreamTruffle, the monster is born.

This story takes place after the second match in their FCW angle and references and treats as real some events that occurred as a part of that angle. So, if you're not familiar with their work together, I suggest you head over to YouTube and hit the high points. Great matches and killer promos. If you're an Ambrose fan or a Regal fan, you definitely won't be disappointed. And if you're a fan of both – seriously, what are you waiting for? At minimum, there's a great fan-made video called "True Villains" that should give you enough to go on. I'll reblog it on tumblr (mxjoyride).

Props to IrishCreamTruffle, Glitterdune, and Street of Alice for beta reading, feedback, and encouragement. Props to Muse, Bonnie "Prince" Billy/Will Oldham, Mark Lanegan, Johnny Cash, P.J. Harvey, and A.A. Bondy for the sonic inspiration.

The title comes from a Guided by Voices song. The song isn't entirely thematically or sonically appropriate, but I thought the title fit.

Enjoy!

_And that I see a darkness  
And did you know how much I love you  
Is a hope that somehow you  
You can save me from this darkness_

- Bonnie "Prince" Billy, "I See a Darkness"

Ambrose walked into the dimly-lit bar and looked around. He'd never been here before – never even heard of this place until Regal suggested they meet here tonight. It was a small, clean place, covered in dark wood. Old soul music played on the jukebox – loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to drown out the faint din of conversation and the clicking of billiard balls.

Ambrose spotted Regal sitting at the end of the bar looking straight ahead, his fingers steepled. Regal turned his head as Ambrose sat down beside him.

"I see you dressed up for the occasion," Regal said, smiling with smug warmth at Ambrose's wrinkled white t-shirt and tattered jeans. Ambrose wondered if Regal had ever owned a pair of jeans in his life.

"Only the best for you, sunshine," Ambrose said. "How's the ear?"

Regal laughed. "Still bloody awful. But that's why we're here, isn't it? You never gave me the opportunity to properly congratulate you."

Regal nodded at the bartender, who approached with a smile of recognition. Regal let Ambrose order his whiskey first before ordering a beer for himself. As soon as the bartender brought their drinks, Regal raised his glass to Ambrose.

"To your great victory in this war of villains," Regal said. "You are truly worthy. Cheers."

Ambrose raised his glass to Regal's. Ambrose muttered "cheers" before taking a long drink of whiskey. Regal sipped his beer. They drank in silence for a little while before Ambrose spoke.

"Kinda weird to buy a guy a drink after he beats you half to death," Ambrose said. Regal chuckled.

"Yes, I suppose. But you and I," Regal said, gesturing broadly between them, "we don't always pay much attention to what's customary, now do we?"

"Well," Ambrose said, "I don't really think we're that much alike, you know? I think I fucking showed you that."

"But you're here, aren't you?" Regal said. "Why are you accepting a drink from the broken old man you beat down?"

"I'm not gonna turn down a free drink," Ambrose said. Regal chuckled again. But, Ambrose thought, was that really it? He thought the victory would satisfy him – not even just a mere pinfall, a true fucking victory – but it still felt incomplete. Something still gnawed at him.

When Ambrose looked back over at Regal, he saw that Regal had turned his head toward the pool tables, and his eyes were fixed on a tall redheaded woman who had just landed a killer shot, to the cheers of the men in the back. Regal applauded her before turning back to Ambrose.

"She's quite something, isn't she? Striking." Regal said.

"Yeah…" Ambrose said, drumming his fingers on the bar. "She's not bad, if you're into that kind of thing."

Regal laughed. "And what kind of thing is that?"

"Oh, I don't fucking know," Ambrose said. "That."

"You're awfully vague," Regal said. The air between them grew silent and oddly heavy.

"So what is your kind of thing?" Regal asked.

"Why the fuck do you want to know?" Ambrose said.

"Just making conversation," Regal said. "Isn't that how it works? Two old cads at the bar, eyeing all the women."

"Yeah, I don't know, man." Ambrose said. He was starting to feel more and more agitated by the second. That weird silence grew between them again and for some reason that pissed Ambrose off, too.

"I bet I could guess what your kind of thing is," Regal finally said.

"Oh, really now?" Ambrose said. "Try me."

"I bet Seth Rollins is your kind of thing," Regal said. Regal's remark registered too quickly for Ambrose to conceal the surprise on his face. How the fuck did Regal know anything about that? Ambrose fidgeted, trying to think of what to say, but for once, he was at a loss for words.

"Though, really, that's not a guess," Regal said. "I know he is. I don't think anyone else has noticed the two of you. But I have my ways and I have my reasons."

"And what are those, exactly?" Ambrose said.

"We're much more alike than you think," Regal said. "There's a lot of subtlety involved in this game. Particularly for a man like me. So one learns to pick up on things, to gather information others might not require, to communicate in ways others might not. Perhaps you understand."

"Does your wife understand?" Ambrose snarled.

Regal laughed. "As well as she needs to." Yet, Ambrose saw Regal fidget ever so slightly, fiddle with his wedding band, take too long of a drink.

"Hit a nerve?" Ambrose asked.

"Oh, dear boy, it's been hit for decades," Regal said. "But with all the vices I've given up over the years, I can't give up the conquest. My soul just won't allow it."

For whatever reason, Ambrose suddenly felt more at ease. "Conquest, " he said. "Yeah. That's a good word for it."

"You fancy yourself a bit of a conqueror?" Regal said.

"More than a bit," Ambrose said. The air between them fell silent again, but its weight felt different somehow. More inviting.

"I bet he begs for you," Regal said. "I bet he screams for you."

Ambrose grew warm all over at Regal's words – power tingled through him. "Yeah," Ambrose said. "He does."

Regal smiled. "That's always such a bloody gorgeous thing."

They continued drinking silently until their glasses were empty. As soon as they were, Regal signaled the bartender again.

"You want another?" Regal asked Ambrose.

"Sure, why not?" Ambrose said.

To Ambrose's surprise, Regal ordered nothing for himself.

"Giving up already?" Ambrose said.

"I'd love to chat longer," Regal said, "Unfortunately I'm otherwise engaged. But do enjoy."

With that, Regal placed some money on the bar and walked out, tousling Ambrose's hair as he left. The touch made Ambrose's scalp tingle, a tingling that, for whatever reason, didn't stop.


	2. Chapter 2

_You won't get much closer  
'Til you sacrifice it all  
You won't get to taste it  
With your face against the wall  
Get up and commit  
Show the power trapped within  
Do just what you want to  
And now stand up and begin_

- Muse, "Panic Station"

Ambrose staggered up the stairs to the door to his apartment. His hand shook as he struggled to unlock the door. When he finally got the door open, it felt jarring somehow, and he nearly fell into the apartment. He wobbled to the futon and lay face down on it, his head spinning. Fucking Regal.

Ambrose had sat at that bar until last call, drinking whiskey after whiskey, trying to drown whatever weird restless bullshit Regal had stirred up. Yet, as hard as he tried, he couldn't shake it. And now he felt just as fucking obsessively powerless as he had that day he'd snapped and blindsided Regal while he tended to Maxine.

He threw his clothes off and slept fitfully until sunrise – waking up seemingly every 30 minutes nauseated, shaky, insatiably thirsty, and covered in sweat, always in the shadows of some disjointed dream about Regal he couldn't quite remember. What the fuck was going on?

Sunlight started streaming into the room from between the bent slats of the cheap blinds, and Ambrose's guts started to turn themselves inside out. He spilled their angry contents in the toilet all the ways they came, burning like acid all the while. After that, he felt a bit better – good enough to down a half-gallon of Gatorade and a few Advil and try to sleep again.

He awoke again a few hours later, feeling surprisingly refreshed but painfully fucking hard. His latest dream rushed back to him and he saw himself – fucking felt himself – standing over a defeated Regal and cumming all over his fucking face. Ambrose smirked to himself and wrapped his fist around his cock, pumping hard and fast. Yeah, that's one way to show that fucking asshole. He started working his balls with his other hand as his mind teemed with visions of Regal's humiliation – that smug fucking face of his looking absolutely destroyed in every one. A bloody gorgeous thing, indeed. Ambrose laughed before he cried out and came suddenly and blindingly, shooting all over his own fist and abs. He brought his hand to his mouth, tasted himself, and smiled – victorious and satisfied.

* * *

At that night's TV taping, Ambrose spent every free moment he could find whispering all of the humiliations coursing through his mind into Seth's ear. Sure, they were still about Regal, but he figured Seth couldn't tell the difference, and he figured that later that night, he'd forget the difference, too.

"I'm gonna fucking destroy you," he whispered. "I'm gonna fuck you 'til all the life drains from your pathetic fucking face, 'til you're just a broken fucking shell. And you're just gonna fucking thank me and beg for more, like my cock's the only fucking thing you have left."

At first, Seth responded deliciously - his eyes grew heavy-lidded with desire, he bit his flushing lip and shook just barely, just what Ambrose loved to see. But after a while Seth seemed to grow annoyed. Finally, after their matches, he spoke.

"You're acting kinda weird tonight," Seth said.

"You looked like you fucking liked it earlier," Ambrose said.

"Yeah, I did, but I don't know," Seth said. "It's just, like, you're fucking different tonight. Like, I don't know what it is. Like whatever it is, it's not mine. Does that make any fucking sense? Like I don't care, but you know."

"Yeah," Ambrose said, trailing off. Seth was right – Ambrose didn't really know what to say. As he tried to think, he felt someone approach behind him.

"Hello, boys," Regal said. He clapped Seth on the shoulder. "Wonderful match tonight, just wonderful."

"Thanks," Seth said. "That means a lot coming from you."

"Truly a thing of beauty," Regal said, looking straight at Ambrose. "Don't you agree?"

"Yeah," Ambrose said. "Definitely."

Regal laughed, some kind of weird knowing thing that felt to Ambrose like it sucked all the sound out of the air. Seth started to fidget.

"Yeah, well, I gotta get out of here now," Seth said. His hand lingered on Ambrose's shoulder as he walked away. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, alright?"

Regal smirked at Ambrose as Seth walked away. They remained silent for a little while – the smirk never left Regal's face.

"So what the fuck do you want?" Ambrose finally said.

"No need to be rude, dear boy," Regal said. "I just wanted to apologize for leaving so abruptly last night I do hope you weren't offended."

"Nah," Ambrose said. "It's cool."

"It was really a shame. We were having such a terribly interesting chat," Regal said.

"Yeah, real interesting," Ambrose said, raising his eyebrows briefly. "So what'd you have to go do anyway?"

Regal paused for a moment and looked off before he spoke. "Nothing terribly exciting. Just something for my wife."

Dean snickered. "Always getting in the fucking way, right?"

"Perhaps," Regal said.

"Well, maybe we should do it again sometime," Ambrose said. "You know, trade war stories or something. Like the old pros we are. Unless your wife has a problem with that."

"When you put it that way, it sounds downright bloody innocent," Regal said.

"Who says it's not?" Ambrose said. "C'mon, you know me. Pure as fucking snow."

"Indeed, I believe I do. An absolute angel," Regal said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But yes. Let's do it again. When would you like?"

"Well, as you just fucking saw, looks like I'm not doing anything tonight," Ambrose said. "So maybe you should make that up to me."

"You make it sound as if it's my bloody fault somehow," Regal said.

"Maybe it is," Ambrose said.

Regal laughed incredulously before pausing for a moment. "Very well," he said. "Where would you like to go?"

"I gotta take some shit back over to my place," Ambrose said. "So maybe you come over there and we'll figure it out, alright? Is that cool?"

"I'm sure that will work out splendidly, just so long as you tell me where you live." Regal said with a smile as he handed his phone to Ambrose.

Ambrose started to enter his address into Regal's phone. "Yeah, fucking splendid, alright."


	3. Chapter 3

_Let me ride  
Let me ride  
Just let me ride on his grace for awhile  
Let me ride  
Let me ride  
Just let me ride on your grace for awhile_

- PJ Harvey, "Teclo"

Ambrose sat on the unfolded futon and looked around his apartment - at the clothes strewn about, errant beer cans, the general state of disarray – and briefly entertained the thought of straightening up before Regal arrived. He quickly dismissed it – no sense in making things pretty for that uptight prick.

Getting Regal to agree to come here was almost too easy, Ambrose thought. He imagined it wouldn't be much harder get him bent over and moaning like some grizzled old whore, to slap him around and make him beg for it like his life depended on it. Ambrose's cock stirred a bit at the thought of it. Regal was so fucking transparent. He tried to play the conqueror, but really, underneath it all, he was so obviously fucking weak. He probably loved the humiliation, really, deep down. Why else would he seek Ambrose out after everything Ambrose had already done?

Ambrose heard a knock at the door and opened it to see Regal standing outside, still in the same suit he wore to TV, no tie. Ambrose nodded at him and gestured with his head for Regal to come inside. Regal complied, shutting the door behind him. So fucking easy, Ambrose thought. But before Ambrose could make his next move, he felt his back slam against the wall, Regal's hands pressing his shoulders hard against it, as Regal's mouth hotly engulfed his, fucking electric and suffocating. Ambrose struggled against Regal and kissed back roughly, trying to take back the breath Regal had stolen from his lungs, as Regal pushed back against him. Eventually, Regal broke the kiss and pulled back just far enough to look Ambrose straight in the eyes, as he kept Ambrose pressed hard against the wall all the while.

"I always wanted to do that," Regal said. "Since I saw you out there on your first day in FCW, calling out Seth like you did. So brash. I wanted to suck that wonderful arrogant little smirk of yours right off your lips."

Regal's words sent a charge through Ambrose – some kind of adrenaline spike. Ambrose used it to push Regal off him and throw Regal back-first onto the futon. Ambrose fell on top of Regal, holding Regal's wrists up next to his ears.

"Is that right?" Ambrose said. "Well, fucking bravo, you did it. Congratulations. But I don't think you understand. This is my fucking house. I make the fucking rules."

"So you're the king of this squalid little castle? I had no idea," Regal said.

Ambrose freed one of Regal's wrists just long enough to slap Regal hard across the face before he pinned Regal's wrist again. Regal laughed.

"What's so fucking funny?" Ambrose said. He grinded his hips into Regal's, making it obvious to both of them how hard they already were.

"Oh, I don't know," Regal said. "It's just, well. It's cute, really."

Ambrose slapped Regal again, harder this time. The sound of it seemed to echo for a moment. "Was that fucking cute?" Ambrose said. "Or do you just love being fucking smacked around? I bet you do."

"I wouldn't say I love it. But it's all part of the bloody game, isn't it? Necessary, really. And I do love this little game we're playing." Regal said.

"And exactly what kind of fucking game do you think we're playing here?" Ambrose said. "Because I don't think this is a fucking game. I'm not playing any fucking games. This shit is real."

"It's the game where you get out all of your, whatever this is, this bravado, and then we figure out what it is you really need from me," Regal said.

"Oh, I think I know that already," Ambrose said. "And I think we know what you fucking need from me."

"Enlighten me," Regal said.

"I think you need me to break this bloated fucking corpse you call a body into little pieces, until all you can fucking do is beg for me," Ambrose said. "I think I need to fuck your pathetic ass until you fucking scream, until I fucking destroy you with my fucking cock. Because I can do that. I will do that. I need to do that. And that's what you want, isn't it? It's not enough that I fucking defeated you – fucking destroyed your ass – in the ring. Oh no. You're not gonna be satisfied until I fucking break you completely, fucking humiliate you, every way it counts."

"Well, I'm sorry to say you're a bit too late for that," Regal said. "I'm already broken. Have been for quite some time. But I didn't have the luxury of having someone do it for me. I had to do it to myself. It's what happens to men like us. We all reach that point. We build our walls around our kingdoms, we don our armor, and we head out to conquer. It's what we were born to do. But inside there's something we're protecting, that soft little monster, that's why we are how we are, and every time it tries to claw its way out, we try to push it back, try to scare it back with our might. But it won't be stopped. And mine, I tried to ignore it so long that when it finally clawed its way out, it left me with the most ghastly scars, and I'll never be quite right again. I feel them everyday. It would have been much easier if I'd met someone who knew, someone who could let the fucking thing out, give it room."

"Look," Ambrose said. "I don't give a shit about your fucking sob story, whatever the fuck it is you're talking about. Alright? I'm getting what I fucking want, just like I always do."

"Suit yourself," Regal said.

Ambrose smirked and stared down at Regal for a bit. Once he was satisfied that Regal wouldn't make any sudden moves, he let go of Regal's wrists and went to remove Regal's jacket. Regal sat up enough to help Ambrose pull the jacket off and watched with a look of mild disgust as Ambrose unceremoniously tossed it on top of a pile of clothes on the floor. Ambrose then started to unbutton Regal's shirt. After he'd made it down a few buttons, revealing the undershirt beneath, Regal wrapped his legs around Ambrose's, grabbed Ambrose's arms, and flipped them both over hard, knocking some of the wind out of Ambrose in the process. Ambrose coughed.

"I'll take what I want if I have to, dear boy, but I'd really rather not," Regal said, pushing Ambrose's t-shirt up toward his chest. Regal then traced a line with his tongue slowly from just under the waistband of Ambrose's jeans to the center of his chest before he slipped Ambrose's t-shirt off him – Ambrose sat up slightly and lifted his arms as Regal did so. The whole thing made Ambrose tingle just as his scalp did the other night at the bar. And as Ambrose looked into Regal's eyes now, for the first time he could remember, he felt something deep inside himself desperate to fucking relax, desperate to surrender, and he remembered what Regal had just said moments ago. Somehow, it felt true now As soon as Ambrose realized this, Regal's eyes sparked with some sort of twisted recognition and he kissed Ambrose again – softly this time, smiling. When Regal broke the kiss, Ambrose felt himself moan quietly into Regal. There was no denying it now.

"Yes, that's it," Regal said as he unbuttoned Ambrose's jeans and started to pull them and Ambrose's underwear down over his hips. "You really need this, don't you?" Ambrose lifted his hips to help Regal along – much more than necessary, really. Regal smiled approvingly when he finally freed Ambrose's achingly hard cock.

"It really is so much better if you enjoy it," Regal said. "Now turn over for me. Put your feet on the floor."

Ambrose considered resisting for a moment – he was never one to do what he was told. But there was no point now. For whatever reason, he now trusted in whatever Regal was going to do. So, he did as Regal told him and found himself face down on the futon, feet on the floor, ass in the air – a position he never thought he'd be in, and certainly not for Regal of all people. The world works in mysterious ways.

Ambrose waited for what felt like an eternity, wondering exactly what Regal would do next. He was surprised to finally feel Regal's hands on his hips and Regal's tongue on his ass, gently grazing his entrance in a way that sent delicious shivers through him, drawing soft moans from deep inside him. Regal's tongue gradually grew more aggressive, bringing forth harder moans and drawing him open. Ambrose started to grind his ass against Regal's face. After a while, Regal stopped and Ambrose nearly whimpered. But Regal soon replaced his tongue with a lubed finger that he slowly plunged into Ambrose, which elicited a satisfied, shuddering gasp. One finger became two, and soon two fingers became three. Ambrose gritted his teeth as he stretched over them, but the slight pain soon gave way to unfamiliar pleasure. He felt himself relax into Regal's hand and it wasn't long before he felt his body begging for something more.

Regal withdrew his fingers and Ambrose soon heard Regal's belt buckle unfastening and the sound of shifting cloth. A few seconds passed before Ambrose heard the wet sound of Regal stroking his own lubed cock. Ambrose felt Regal's weight and the soft fabric of Regal's shirt against his back before he felt Regal's cock prodding his entrance.

"You've never done this before, have you?" Regal said.

"No," Ambrose said, barely louder than a whisper.

"I'll try to be kind then," Regal said.

With that, Regal began to slowly enter Ambrose. Ambrose heard Regal's slow, hissing breath in his ear as he felt himself stretch over Regal's cock, the initial pain once again quickly giving way to delicious pleasure. Once Regal had completely filled Ambrose, he stopped and held himself there. He grabbed Ambrose's hair gently and turned his head around until Ambrose could see Regal's face out of one eye and feel Regal's heavy breath against his cheek.

"Do you want this?" Regal asked.

"Yeah," Ambrose said.

"Tell me what you want." Regal said.

Ambrose paused. He swallowed hard. His face felt hot. His mouth felt dry. But he knew it was true. "I want you to fuck me," he said.

"Good," Regal said. He slowly pulled his cock nearly all the way out of Ambrose before slowly plunging it back in once again in a way that lit up every one of Ambrose's nerves. Regal continued with this slow pace for a while, drawing low, quiet moans from Ambrose all the while – it felt fucking exquisite until Ambrose's need grew, then it felt excruciatingly delicious. Regal wrapped his fist around Ambrose's begging cock and started to stroke it in time with his thrusts. To Ambrose, it all felt simultaneously like too much and not at all enough at the same time. Ambrose felt a little bit of a whine catch in his moans, and as soon as he did, Regal began to move faster and harder into him, slamming the gorgeous nerves inside him with more and more force, driving Ambrose to moan louder as he started bucking harder and harder against Regal.

Finally, Ambrose felt his whole body tighten, every bit of him grabbing desperately onto Regal's cock, for protection, for release. Soon, he felt all of that tension explode out of him with some otherworldly primal sound he hardly recognized as his own, shooting out all over Regal's fist before his body grew limp and felt wonderfully crushed under Regal's weight. It wasn't long before Ambrose felt Regal press hard against him, grunting, pulsing his release deep inside. Regal collapsed against Ambrose, breathing hard into his ear before slowly pulling himself out and rolling off to the side. After a few moments, they both caught their breath. Ambrose turned on his side to face Regal.

"Thank you," Ambrose said, reaching to touch Regal's forearm, his spent eyes full of reverence.

"It was my pleasure," Regal said, smiling into Ambrose's eyes. For once, they looked to be at peace.


End file.
